


Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You

by SylvieW



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Bartender Stiles, Happy Ending, M/M, Magic Stiles, Prince Derek, Royalty, not really more like actual magic, the power of True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-01 15:24:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12707676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylvieW/pseuds/SylvieW
Summary: As a prince, Derek has no business frequenting a tavern in the middle of the capital city, but once he meets Stiles, he has to go back. Stiles opens up his world with possibilities, but they both know their time together is limited.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [Frankie Valli’s song by the same name.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LcJm1pOswfM) It has very little at all to do with the plot.

*******

The first time Derek entered a bar, he was 24 years old. Most of his friends considered this long overdue. In fact, that was what his friends had insisted as they dragged him from the castle and out into the city. Still, Derek had hesitated outside the door. He could already hear the cacophony of noise bursting from inside, and smell the liquor, sweat, and dirt of its occupants. 

Before he had a chance to voice his concerns, Scott reached back and pulled him inside.

The noises were even louder inside, the smells more pungent, and now he had a sea of movement to contend with. Even the people seated at tables seemed to be in motion, and Derek reeled as his senses overloaded.

Scott said something to him, but he couldn’t focus on them, couldn’t focus on anything.

Then suddenly he could.

A nimble figure was moving through the crowd, sliding past the table, collecting empty cup, replacing them with full ones. He dodged an elbow at one table and avoided colliding with a chair at another. He moved like a calamity waiting to happen, yet never tipped over into chaos. 

Scott dragged Derek over to a table and he settled himself into the corner and returned his gaze to the young man. Barely more than a boy, really, despite his practiced ease at moving through the unruly crowd.

“Stiles!” Scott called out with a wave. The boy looked over and tossed them a mischievous smile and a salute. He made his way to their table via the bar and set a sturdy mug in front of each of them.

“Stiles, bring us some--” Isaac started but Stiles shook his head.

“I’ll get you what you need,” he said and disappeared. Isaac frowned after him but turned his attention to his mug and his disposition cheered as soon as he tasted it. Apparently, it was what he wanted, though Derek wasn’t sure what that was. He took a cautious sniff and sip of his beverage, and it tasted like a nice wine. Mellow and unlikely to have lasting effects the way a wolfsbane brew would.

Derek kept half his attention on his friends talking around him, and the other half on the bar boy. Stiles, Scott and Isaac had said. He handled the customers perfectly, exchanging a joke or a smile before moving along. 

One drunken sailor made a grab for Stiles’ ass, and he poured a frothing mug over his head and kneed him in the groin. Then he picked his tray back up and meandered away while two other patrons dragged the man from the bar.

“You’re new here,” a craggy old woman said next to Derek.

“What?” Derek tore his gaze from Stiles.

“It’s his first time out to see the Sheriff,” Scott told the woman. 

Derek frowned. “Why would we see a sheriff?”

She wheezed out a laugh. “The man who owns the place. They call him the Sheriff because he used to work for the palace guard.”

“Oh,” Derek said, looking down at the table as his face heated. Scott jostled his shoulder reassuringly and drew the old woman into a conversation on another topic.

For the most part, the regular patrons of the bar ignored Derek, though one or two made similar comments about him not having been there before. No one recognized him, and it was disconcerting and freeing at the same time. It was nice that he didn’t have to think about presenting himself a certain way, every word and action thought out to uphold his family’s honour. But it also felt odd because, if he wasn’t trying to do that, how was he supposed to behave?

Isaac got drunk and danced with a barmaid. Boyd won 50 crowns from the gambling table in the corner. Parrish sang a song about drunken philosophers with the old man, and Scott just laughed and talked with anyone willing to lend him an ear.

A middle-aged man shouted from the bar, “Last call!” His announcement was met with groans and hollers, most commonly, “Come on, Sheriff, just a few more!”

Derek waited patiently while the crowd began to filter out. Boyd went to retrieve Isaac while Parrish and Scott hung on every word of the story a grizzled old man was telling. The bar was clear, and Derek could see Stiles, wiping glasses and replacing them on a shelf. The shelf was high enough that he had to stretch to reach it for each glass, and Derek found the pull of his muscles mesmerizing. 

With a last glance at his friends, Derek slipped away from the table and over to the bar. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, then Stiles turned to him and smiled. “Hello. Did you enjoy your first trip, then?”

Derek nodded immediately. He wasn’t sure about this bar situation, but he certainly enjoyed watching Stiles. “You’re very good at...this.”

Stiles laughed, bright and musical, ringing in Derek’s ears and echoing through his mind. Stiles shrugged and said, “I do alright. I’m better at other things.”

Derek didn’t know what that meant, but he nodded anyway. “You’ve worked here long?”

Stiles laughed again, but Derek didn’t know why that was funny. “All my life,” Stiles told him.

Scott appeared at Derek’s side and tugged his arm. “We should get back. G’night, Stiles.”

“See you soon, Scott,” Stiles said and winked at Derek. “Goodbye, Mr. Wolf.”

Derek stiffened and stumbled slightly as Scott dragged him away. How had Stiles known he was a wolf? What had he done to give himself away?

Isaac was draped between Boyd and Parrish, barely standing on his own two feet and he slurred his way through a song the crowd had joined in on earlier. Getting back home undetected would be quite a challenge.

***

Derek would have liked to say he was able to focus less on Stiles the next time they went to the bar, but that simply wasn’t true. He just managed better at listening to other people as well as watching Stiles. 

He found himself in a fascinating discussion with a young sailor about the fishing restrictions in place. The rules had been formed to help the people, but the man brought up points that Derek, his family, and their councillors had never considered.

Stiles appeared at his side and said, “You should ask Old Murphy about it. He’ll tell you how it really is.” Then he was off again, winding his way around tables and bodies like a dancer on a stage.

So Derek found Old Murphy and asked. Murphy had worked on a fishing boat for forty years. He’d seen plenty of regulation and regimes in place and he was happy to tell anyone about which ones worked and which were “A load of bullshit two miles high.” Other fishermen chimed in their opinions, and Derek listened carefully, taking everything in and was rarely asked to speak. 

His next visit was similar, as was the next and so on until Derek lost count. A political debate that rivaled those in Derek’s family throne room would start up, and Stiles would point out the person in the room most qualified to speak on the topic. Derek took to writing down as much as he could remember when he got home and utilizing it in debates when new restrictions were brought forth or he had a chance to bring old ones up for review.

His mother was tickled that he finally seemed to be finding his footing, and Derek felt somewhat guilty that he was doing it by sneaking out of his home and pretending to be a commoner.

After months of visiting the Sheriff’s bar, he finally found himself there on a night when one of those restrictions was lifted.

The room was rowdier than ever, people celebrating like it was the winter solstice.

Derek kept hearing toasts to his name, and he felt more and more guilty for his deceit as the night wore on. He wanted to go home, but he couldn’t find his friends. If he disappeared without them, they may panic and call the guard, and then they’d all get in trouble.

He imagined himself invisible in the corner until Stiles materialized at his side and whispered, “This way, Mr. Wolf.” He took Derek’s hand and led him behind the bar. Stiles even managed to catch Scott’s attention on the way by so his friend would know where he was.

He led Derek through the kitchen and up a back staircase. He relinquished his hold inside the door of a small living space. The kitchen was small, taken over mostly by strange bottles and plants. Two chairs sat next to the fireplace, one with a stack of wood and a whittling knife on the seat, the other with a basket of mending.

Stiles puttered around the kitchen, humming under his breath. Derek jolted when he said, “You shouldn’t worry about it so much.”

“What?”

Stiles looked over his shoulder at him. “You shouldn’t worry that they don’t know who you are. You're not using it against them, you’re helping them. You’ve listened, and worked to make a difference in their lives.”

Derek stared at him. “Did Scott tell you?”

Stiles snorted. “I don’t need Scott to tell me when I come across a werewolf. It’s not too hard from there to make connections. I caught a glimpse of your father once. My dad was guarding him during a parade. You both have the same look about you.”

“You never said anything,” Derek said.

“Of course not. You do good things, Derek. Like I said, you listen, then you don’t just brush it aside because they’re common folk. You remember, and you use it to _their_ advantage. If I pointed it out to them, if they knew it was Prince Derek among them, not their good friend Derek, they wouldn’t speak so freely. Then you wouldn’t know what they need.”

“I don’t understand why they don’t come to speak at the public forums. Why will they have these discussions here but not where we can hear them?” Derek asked.

“Would you hear them, though? Or would you get a summary from a pinch-faced clerk?” Stiles asked. Derek sighed because he knew Stiles had a point. “Besides, if they try to get their ideas to the crown, and are turned away...then it seems like they’ve failed. Or that your family has failed them. And that’s not fair. You try your best.”

“We do,” Derek insisted. “We want what’s best for the people.”

“I know,” Stiles said, smiling at him. He finished his kitchen meddling and brought two mugs over, handing one to Derek. “Here, you’ll like this.”

Derek took a careful sip and found he did, just like all the drinks Stiles gave him. “How do you always know that?”

Stiles smirked. “Special talent of mine. Learned it from my mother, bless her soul where it rests.

Derek had heard that a lot in his time at the bar. It hadn’t taken long to discover Stiles was the Sheriff’s son, and the Sheriff had left the guard when his wife had passed away. He hadn’t wanted to risk leaving Stiles an orphan, so he had taken over running the bar his wife had left. Everyone spoke of her fondly, like a beloved queen instead of a simple barkeep.

He had also heard murmurs of her other skills. The drinks and potions she sold that didn’t come from a brewmaster, but rather her own making.

“You’re a spark,” Derek said.

“If you like,” Stiles said with a shrug. “There’s lots of things to call it.”

Derek sat down his cup on the small table. “You could study at the university. They could train you and then you could--”

“No,” said Stiles quickly. “I’m not well suited to that. Too stuffy.”

Derek frowned. “They could teach you so much.”

“I tried that once, Derek,” Stiles said. “It didn’t work out well.” He shrugged a shoulder and looked into his tea. “I’d have liked a better look at their library. There’s so much you can learn from books, but...I make do, and I don’t need some stuffy mage telling me how to use my energies.”

Derek let it go because he didn’t want to upset Stiles, but he set it to percolate in the back of his mind. Instead, he asked, “What would you say? If you had the crown’s ear and you thought they would listen, what would you say?’

Stiles looked to the ceiling and pursed his lips consideringly. Derek dug his claws into his leg to keep from kissing the frown from Stiles’ face.

“I think I’d be more likely to say what’s important if I didn’t think they would listen,” Stiles settled on. “Like I said, I do just fine. Listen to other people, they need it more.”

Derek nodded, and looked down at his cup and found it disappointingly empty.

“You have a choice to make, Derek,” Stiles said solemnly.

“What’s that?” Derek asked.

“You need to decide if you’re going to go back downstairs and join the rabble, or stay up here and kiss me,” Stiles said, still sounding completely serious.

Derek cleared his throat. “And would you have any advice on this matter?”

Stiles shrugged. “I know what I want. I brought you up here, didn’t I? It’s in your court, so to speak,” he said with a smirk.

And Derek couldn’t help but kiss it right off his mouth. 

He wasn’t sure how the bar managed without Stiles, but he didn’t really care because he got to spend the next hour kissing him. He would have spent longer, but Scott started calling him from downstairs, and he knew it must be time to return to the safety of the castle walls.

Stiles sent him off easily, with one last kiss, a smile, and a wave.

Derek re-lived that hour all the way home, and for days afterward. He couldn’t wait to get back to the bar so he could have Stiles in his arms again.

So of course, it was over a month before they were able to slip away again. 

Derek made his way to the bar, gut churning with nerves. Stiles had fit perfectly in his arms. What if he was angry with Derek for not coming back sooner?

He needn’t have worried. Stiles greeted them with a smile and a wave, sitting Derek next to a miner who had come to the capital for the week.

When Derek had learned everything he could from the man, and the crowd had thinned, Stiles pulled him upstairs and straight into his arms.

Stiles still fit perfectly, like he had never left.

***

Derek’s visits to the Sheriff’s bar stayed much the same, except he spent part of the night wrapped around Stiles. He also started bringing books with him. Tomes, really, giant manuscripts on plants, energies, and ritual. Stiles always flushed with pleasure when Derek presented them and returned them on the next visit.

His family had yet to discover his disappearances, or at least they hadn’t said anything. Derek suspected his mother might have known, so when she called him to her office he was nervous, to say the least.

“You wanted to see me?” Derek said standing rigidly in front of her desk.

“Sit down, Derek, we have something to discuss.” Queen Talia gestured to a chair and Derek took it. She was the embodiment of regal virtue, her dark hair pinned perfectly beneath her crown, her appearance was always immaculate and her actions deliberate. Derek took a moment to be thankful once again that it was Laura who had to follow in her footsteps instead of him.

“As you know, one of our ambassadors has been working on a contract with Argent,” Talia said.

Argent held the most plentiful silver mines of all the surrounding kingdoms, so as far as Derek was concerned, there was always an ambassador and they were always working on a contract. He didn’t say that to his mother though. He simply nodded and let her continue to her point.

“They have suggested that perhaps a marriage union would be beneficial to both our kingdoms,” Talia said. “We have not yet responded. I wanted to see what you thought.”

Derek shook his head immediately as dread overtook him. “I’m not ready to get married.” Wasn’t ready to give up Stiles.

“You don’t have to be married yet. You could have a long betrothal,” Talia suggested. “They’re a very strong country. Kate is only a handful of years older than you.”

“No, mother. Please, not yet.” Derek was under no delusions of his choices. The privilege of being born into a royal family came at a cost. It was highly unlikely that he would be wed as a result of affection. He was the second born of their household, and while he was trained to advise Laura and keep her safe, he was most useful as a means of solidifying her position among her peers. Regardless of the origin of his marriage, he intended to be faithful to his future mate. He wasn’t ready to do that when he had just started exploring his relationship with Stiles. 

Talia could have easily pointed this out or insisted that he fulfill his duty to his kingdom, but she simply sighed and nodded. “I’ll tell them you wish to further your studies before you commit to anyone.”

“Thank you, mother,” Derek said. She dismissed him and he left the room quickly. He stopped at a window and looked out over the wall onto the city sprawling beneath them. He would have to accept his duty eventually, but for now, he was fortunate to have a mother who took his happiness as a priority, even if it would not surpass her kingdom.

***

Derek had spent months trying to pass an edict to help support the families of miners who died in the shafts. He was so close to convincing the council, and then some northern lord had come in and started spewing charismatic nonsense, and suddenly he was back to square one. In fact, he was worse than when he started off because he would have to come up with new arguments, and counteract the lies the lord had convinced them of, instead of starting fresh.

He was upset and disappointed and all he wanted was to bury himself in the comfort of Stiles’ scent until his anger bled away. 

They set out from the castle much later than they usually did, but Derek’s friends accompanied him nonetheless. Their quiet demeanors were a marked contrast to that first night when they had dragged Derek out into the unknown.

It was a quiet evening, so Stiles was already washing glasses while his father passed out the orders from the last call. The Sheriff raised an eyebrow at their group, but didn’t say anything when Derek breezed past him and tugged his son into the back.

Derek could hear his friends greeting the Sheriff and settling in but he didn’t focus his senses to decipher what they said. He pulled Stiles into his arms and pressed his face into Stiles’ neck, inhaling deeply.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles said, running his fingers through Derek’s hair in a soothing rhythm.

Derek told him all about the failed edict and Stiles responded with sympathetic outrage. When Derek was finished, Stiles lead him into the bedroom. In all the hours he had spent with Stiles, Derek had never been in his private room. Every inch smelled of Stiles and no one else, and Derek felt the tension leave his body.

“I know what you need,” Stiles said. “Let me help you feel better.” He kissed Derek deeply and unlatched his cloak, letting it flutter to the floor around them. They made quick work of the rest of their clothes, stealing kisses between shedding garments, and it didn’t take long until Derek had Stiles laid out on the bed where he could worship every inch of his bare skin.

Derek nibbled along Stiles’ side, bit down harder on his hip to elicit a gasp before soothing the spot with his tongue. He gave similar attention to Stiles’ other side, his shoulder and the back of his knee before Stiles shoved a bottle into Derek’s hands.

He recognized the purpose of the oil immediately and looked to Stiles quickly. “Are you sure?”

Stiles nodded, and mumbled, “Want you.”

Derek coated his fingers in the oil and lined the first one up with Stiles’ hole. He braced himself over Stiles where he could watch his face and wasn’t disappointed by the expressions of bliss and passion.

Stiles was so tight, but he stayed relaxed under Derek’s attention, and Derek tried to kiss away any discomfort. 

“Come on,” Stiles said tugging at Derek’s hips. Derek took one of Stiles’ pillows to lay under his hips. He wanted to face Stiles, but he wanted him to be comfortable, too.

Derek sucked at the hollow behind Stiles’ ear as he slowly slid into him. Stiles squirmed beneath him, but Derek wasn’t sure if it was to get away or get closer, and the tight heat surrounding his cock was making him lightheaded. “Stiles?” 

Stiles moaned, tightening his arms around Derek and rocking his hips. Derek sighed in relief and let himself get lost in the feel of Stiles, drown in the scent and sound and feel of him, intoxicated by the pleasure of finally having him the closest that two separate beings could be. 

Derek only lasted a handful of thrusts before he came with a shiver, spilling into Stiles and collapsing on top of him. He forced himself to withdraw carefully and roll off of Stiles so he couldn’t crush him. 

Stiles straddled him, grabbed Derek’s wrists and pinned them over his head. It wasn’t really possible for a human as skinny as Stiles to actually keep Derek down if he wanted to get free but Derek revelled in the illusion. Stiles captured Derek’s mouth with his and started rutting against him, chasing completion.

He came hard and fast, come spattering over Derek’s stomach and chest. Stiles collapsed on top of him and Derek pulled him close, wrapped in the scent and feel of Stiles until they both fell asleep. He would have to return to the castle soon, but for now, Derek was content to drift, anchored in Stiles’ embrace.

***

Derek managed to avoid any serious talk of marriage for over two years. All good things must end, and the council thought Lady Jennifer would be a perfect choice. She was poised, intelligent, and beloved by the people. There was only so much Queen Talia could say to deter them when she would truly make anyone a lovely companion.

But she wasn’t Stiles.

She didn’t wrinkle a button nose at the smell of ginger, didn’t laugh with her whole body like the joy was too much to contain. She didn’t pepper Derek with questions on silly things, didn’t share dirty jokes with soot covered miners in one moment and debate current affairs in the next.

It wasn’t her fault, but Derek didn’t want her.

Kate Argent didn’t see it that way.

Everything happened so fast Derek barely had time to think. They were standing in the throne room, conversing with the council, the Argent ambassadors, and Lady Jennifer and her advisors, when Kate suddenly lunged toward Jennifer with a sword that crackled with electricity. 

Derek slashed blindly, and he knew he caught flesh, but he didn’t register where before Kate’s sword connected with his side. The electricity jolted through him, then everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles finished mopping the floors and started the tedious process of lowering the chairs back onto the ground. His father started the same task at the other end, and they worked towards each other in a natural routine, borne of doing the same task together for years. 

Stiles’ nose twitched and he registered Scott’s presence before he came through the door. Excitement bloomed. Where there was Scott, there was Derek, and the afternoon was still quiet. They could have hours to themselves before Stiles was needed.

The panic on Scott’s face quickly turned Stiles’ excitement to icy fear. “What’s happened?”

“There was an attack,” Scott panted. “Derek’s been hurt, he won’t wake up and the wound isn’t healing. Please, Stiles, I think he needs you.”

Stiles was prepared to follow Scott immediately, but his father grabbed his arm. “Why? You have a whole castle of medics, why do you need Stiles?”

Scott grumbled indecisively then said, “They think her sword was enchanted. Our Head Emissary doesn’t recognize it, and he wants to try all theses spells on Derek. I don’t think they’ll help. So far Queen Talia has refused, but he’s wearing her down.”

The Sheriff still looked dubious, and Scott looked even more panicked

“Please, Sheriff. Derek is a wolf. He heals better with his pack nearby,” Scott insisted. “He needs his mate!”

Stiles started to object then closed his mouth. He wasn’t a wolf, and he didn’t know what made two people mates, but if Derek wasn’t a prince or Stiles wasn’t a barkeep's son, he thought that Derek would be his. 

His father relinquished his hold, but instead of following Scott directly, Stiles raced upstairs to his kitchen. He grabbed as many useful things as he could shove in his bag, plants and stones he thought might help and the tea he knew Derek liked just in case. 

He returned downstairs and his father met him at the door, offering the red cloak his mother had made before she died. The one everyone kept expecting him to outgrow, but still fit perfectly after a decade. He clipped it in place and let Scott lead him through the streets. 

Stiles hadn’t been near the castle since he was a child, and even then, his father had been more likely to meet them outside the walls than have them join him within while he was working. He didn’t recognize the route Scott took him. Stiles followed him blindly to the side of the castle’s outer wall.

Isaac greeted them at a small wooden door, weathered with age, and tucked away. They scurried across the castle yard quickly and entered the labyrinth of hallways. Stiles was certain that he would be lost in a moment without Scott.

They hustled him up a flight of stairs, then finally they were close enough for Stiles to feel Derek’s energy, but it was off somehow. Dim, muddy, and in pain. He quickened his pace. He hadn’t fully believed Scott that Derek needed him, but now that he could feel Derek’s aura, he was certain he was calling for him. 

He should have paid more attention to his surroundings. If he wasn’t so focused on Derek he might have been able to dodge the hulking figure that grabbed him. Stiles yelped as the figure growled, “You're trespassing.”

“Let him go, Aiden, he’s with us,” Isaac said.

“The queen hasn’t authorized any newcomers in the castle today.” The second voice sounded just like Stiles’ capture, but it came from the man behind them.

“Back off,” Scott growled. He stepped toward them, and Stiles felt the hand on his arm loosen as Aiden focused on Scott’s threatening posture. He seized the opportunity by kneeing Aiden in the groin as hard as he could then took off toward the feeling of Derek as soon as he let go.

He left the commotion behind and skidded around a corner, nearly colliding with a third guard. He ducked out of their grasping arms and skidded down the hallway. The guard nearly caught him again, then Parrish came out of nowhere and tripped him.

Stiles turned down another hallway and focused on the door at the end. But the door was guarded by two other guards, and one was stepping in front of it. He braced himself for impact, but Boyd nudged the woman aside and opened the door for Stiles to race inside.

His entrance was met with a series of growls and a number of outraged shouts, but Stiles ignored them, letting his momentum push him to Derek’s side. 

Derek looked pale and drawn, and he was dripping with sweat. A bandage was wrapped around his torso, but blood was already seeping through the crisp white.

Stiles whimpered and climbed onto the bed beside him. Someone grabbed his shoulder, but the hand was quickly removed. Scott and Isaac had caught up to him and were arguing with the other people in the room, but Stiles tuned them out. 

“Derek?” he whispered. Derek barely flinched, but his energy flared in response before pain dragged it down again. 

Stiles dumped the contents of his bag onto the bed and rifled through it until he’d collected the combination of flowers and herbs he wanted. He carefully peeled back the bandage, grimacing at the mixture of fresh and dried blood. He laid the plants gently over the wound and rested one of the stones he knew would hold the most energy in the center of the cut.

He pressed his hands down onto the flowers and closed his eyes, imagining the energies and lights in his mind. He filtered out the other inhabitants in the room, carefully setting their energies aside until he was centered on his own spark, Derek’s life energy, deeply entwined with his wolf, and this foreign power trying to consume Derek. He sent a touch of his own energy into the stone, then tugged at the sizzling parasite. He funneled it toward the stone, and it latched onto his power there, slowly relinquishing its hold in favour of Stiles' stronger flare.

The parasite resisted when it realized the major source of Stiles’ power wasn’t in the stone and it couldn’t get out. It clung to Derek with the last of his strength. Stiles struggled to find the right strength to keep Derek with him, but gave one final push and locked the parasite away.

He wasn’t sure what he did to make that last surge of power happen, until colour burst in his mind, and he opened his eyes to find himself kissing Derek. He pushed himself up and searched for Derek’s gaze. Derek was awake and staring back at him.

“Oh, hello,” Stiles said. Then promptly passed out on top of him.

***

Stiles came awake slowly. Voices were murmuring nearby, but Derek was pressed against him, his arms wrapped gently around him. Stiles tightened his own grip and mumbled, “Don’t go yet.” He didn’t remember why, but he needed Derek close to him. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Derek said softly. 

The voices cut off abruptly, and the sudden silence jolted Stiles fully awake. As soon as he could focus his attention beyond Derek, it became extremely clear that he was not in his tiny bedroom over the bar, and the voices were not Scott and Isaac calling for Derek to return home. 

He dug his fingers into Derek’s arm as his journey through the castle came back to him. He was going to be arrested as soon as he let go of Derek, he just knew he was.

“Stiles?” Derek said. “What’s wrong? Your heart is racing.”

 _Yeah, hearts do that in situations where death is imminent,_ Stiles thought. “Um...”

Derek ruined his plans of just staying there forever by pushing up into a sitting position and rolling Stiles over so he could look down at him. “Are you hurt?” He started running his hands over Stiles to find the potential injury.

“Shall I call a physician?” 

Stiles started when the woman spoke. He looked over then quickly snapping his eyes back to Derek. He shook his head quickly and grabbed Derek’s hands to stop their appraisal.

“I’m fine,” Stiles croaked.

Derek continued to frown down at him. “Maybe just some water instead, Laura?”

“I’ve got it,” said a younger woman.

“I can do it, Cora, go get Mother,” Laura ordered. She held out a cup to Derek and he manhandled Stiles up and around until he was sitting in Derek’s lap before accepting the cup.

He brought the cup to Stiles’ lips and he gulped the water down greedily. Stiles didn’t acknowledge Laura in the vain hope that if he could just stay focused on Derek, no one would send him away. Derek lowered the empty cup and raised an eyebrow. “More?”

Stiles shook his head, and Derek returned the cup to Laura. The three of them sat in awkward silence for a moment, until Scott burst through the door.

“Stiles! You're awake. Are you okay? You passed out and everyone was really worried. Deaton almost got electrocuted by your rock, but he didn’t. What was that thing? Is that why you passed out? Queen Talia ordered someone to lock it up, she’s going to be back soon. What’s wrong with your heartbeat?” Scott reached forward to touch Stiles, and Derek growled. 

“Uh, I’m fine,” Stiles said awkwardly. “I passed out because of the thing I put _in_ the rock. No one should touch that, probably.”

Scott beamed at him, and then the door opened again.

It wasn’t hard to recognize Queen Talia when she swept into a room. Cora had returned with her, as well as Isaac and two other men.

“You’re both awake,” Talia said. 

Stiles wasn’t sure what to say to that, since it wasn’t actually a question, and he was clearly awake since he was sitting upright _in her son’s lap_ , so he just stared down at the bed, hoping he appeared respectful.

Talia sighed. “Well, Derek, I can see now why you were reluctant to court Lady Jennifer. Scott explained the circumstance of your meeting.”

“Are you terribly upset?” Derek asked. “Is she?”

“No, but her advisors are not pleased, to say the least. We need to handle this carefully, so no one discovers she’s been thrown over for a barkeep,” Talia said.

Stiles stilled. What Talia said implied that Derek would not have to marry Jennifer. But it didn’t mean he was safe. “Am I being arrested?”

There was a stunned silence before Talia asked, “Why would I arrest my son’s mate?”

Stiles shrugged without meeting her gaze. “I wasn’t really supposed to be here.”

Talia sighed. “Scott should have explained what he had done before he brought a stranger into the castle at such a stressful time, but that doesn’t change the fact that you saved Derek’s life.”

“So, I’m just being sent home?” Stiles asked hopefully.

“It’s not that simple,” Talia said, and Stiles’ heart sank. “Several castle inhabitants saw you enter Derek’s room and not come out again. If we send you back home now, it will cause a horrible scandal. The best thing we can do is create a plausible story to tell the people, that doesn’t involve Derek meeting you at a city tavern.”

“Too late,” said another man entering the door.

“What does that mean, Peter?” Talia prompted sharply.

“Someone has a loose tongue,” Peter said. “The whole city knows that Derek was injured and saved by the magical kiss of his one true love.” He placed a dramatic hand on his forehead and fluttered his lashes.

“Well, that doesn’t mean they know it was a commoner,” Talia pointed out.

“Yes, but someone made the connection. Apparently, our little barkeep is quite well known about town, and enough people saw him racing toward the castle with Scott, who was in uniform, that they’re quite certain they know who saved the prince,” Peter said.

“There will be an outcry,” Laura said, appalled. “This is unheard of. People will take to the streets offended at the impropriety.”

Peter gave a half nod. “They’ve taken to the streets, but it isn’t exactly an outcry.”

“Out with it, Peter,” Talia growled.

“They’re heralding him as a _Man of the People_ ,” Peter explained. “They’re celebrating like it's the end of a war, and he’s their greatest hero. There are already ballads written of their great love.”

Stiles felt every pair of eyes land on him, and he hunched closer into Derek. Derek tugged him closer and said, “Scott, can you get the Sheriff here?”

“Who is ‘The Sheriff’?” Talia asked, sounding regally exasperated.

“Stiles’ father,” Derek said. “I...don’t actually know his name.”

“Stilinski,” Stiles offered. “John Stilinski.”

“That sounds familiar,” Peter mused.

“He used to be a palace guard,” Scott said brightly. 

“No, it’s not that,” Peter said. 

“Are you sure?” Scott asked. “He was a hardworking guard, but he left when his wife died.”

“God rest her soul,” Scott, Isaac, Derek, and Stiles all said together.

“Oh yes!” Peter said clapping his hands together and looking pleased with himself. “I knew your mother.”

“Really?” Stiles asked, his gaze shooting up to meet Peter’s before he remembered he was trying to show respect and he forced it back down.

“Yes,” Peter said with a chuckled. “She made the very best tea.”

“Could we focus on the task at hand?” Talia said, ignoring Peter’s veiled meaning.

“Oh, by all means,” Peter said blithely.

“I’ll see about the Sheriff,” Scott said, leaving the room.

“Are we going to have a party?” Cora asked hopefully. “Like the people are? To celebrate what Stiles did?

Talia sighed. “Derek, if you object to moving forward with Stiles as your betrothed, you need to say so now. Otherwise, we will be having much more than a party.”

“Could we have a minute to ourselves, please, Mother?” Derek said.

Everyone filed out of the room. Stiles thought it was awfully considerate of Derek to break his heart privately rather than in a room full of strangers. 

Stiles wiggled off Derek’s lap and moved to get off the bed, but Derek caught his wrist. “Stiles.”

“It’s okay, Derek, I understand,” Stiles said, not daring to look him in the eye. “The person you look to for a romp at a barroom is very different from the person you want to stand at your side in front of your whole kingdom for the rest of your life. Thank you for having the others leave the room to tell me, though, that was considerate of you.”

“Stiles--” Derek started again, but Stiles twisted out of his grip and crawled off the bed. 

He was at a loss when he stood there. He was thankful he still had all his clothes because he didn’t think he could stand the further vulnerability of being naked compounded with what he felt now. He fussed with the bedsheets, trying to put them to rights just to keep his hands busy. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to finish their discussion and run as quickly as possible or if he was trying to prolong it. His time with Derek wasn’t over as long as they were still talking. Just one more moment, one more thought-- “I’m sure Lady Jennifer will be very suitable.”

“Please, Stiles, just consider it for a moment,” Derek begged. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’ll try to make you happy. We could have a good life together, I know we could.”

Startled, Stiles finally looked at Derek and saw all the turmoil he felt reflected right back at him. “What do you mean?”

“I love you,” Derek said, approaching slowly. “I never let myself imagine marrying you because I didn’t think it was possible. But it _is_ possible now and that’s what I want.”

“You want to marry me,” Stiles echoed. “Me.”

“God, yes.” Derek got off the bed to stand with him. “More than anything. I know this isn’t the life you imagined, with guards and rules but--”

“Yes,” Stiles cut in.

“Yes?” Derek reached to take his hand again.

“Yes, I love you, I want you, don’t send me away.” Stiles flung himself into Derek’s arms and reveled in the crushing embrace Derek gave him.

“You're sure? If it’s too much for you…” Derek’s grip tightened even as he promised he would let Stiles go.

“No, I want you,” Stiles said. “I can’t promise that I’ll be any good at it, but I’ll try.”

Derek tilted Stiles’ face up to kiss him. “You’ll do fine. We’ll make it work. I’ll do everything I can to make you happy here.”

***

After telling Queen Talia that they did want to be married, Stiles and Derek didn’t really get much further say. Stiles noticed immediately how many people would tell Derek things, instead of asking him. They’d been _told_ their wedding date, _told_ the story they were telling the people of the kingdom, and _told_ what rooms Stiles would be staying in until their wedding day.

Derek generally just nodded and made some gracious agreement, and Stiles followed his lead. He decided it didn’t really matter _when_ they were married as much as it mattered that they would be. 

However, he was pleased to find that when it really counted, Derek put his foot down. 

During the establishment of Stiles’ new quarters, some idiot decided that nothing that came from Stiles’ home could compare with what was already in the castle, so they shouldn’t bother moving it.

Stiles disagreed wholeheartedly. Of course, he knew that the furniture that belonged to him and his father wasn’t as finely made as those being offered, but that was beside the point. He _liked_ his chair, it fit him just right. He wanted to keep all his books and the shelves that went on them. He wanted his teapot for no other reason than that it had been his mother's. It didn’t matter that it was chipped.

That wasn’t even starting on his supplies. He needed his work table and everything in it. His father had spent a lot of money to have it specially made for his mother, and to keep it stocked, first for her, then for Stiles. It didn’t matter that the castle could afford to replace it a dozen times over, Stiles didn’t want something new.

Stiles didn’t even know where to start campaigning to keep his things, so he was grateful when Derek stepped in and insisted that everything was brought over from the tavern. An entire room was cleared out for Stiles to keep his things, and pieces were removed from his other rooms to be replaced with the things he’d always had.

It still made him dizzy to think about the fact that he had multiple rooms that were considered his. It was a far contrast to the cubby and curtain that separated him and his father from the rest of their quarters. 

Another point of contention between Stiles and the powers that be was his father. It was agreed by everyone that the Sheriff could not continue to run his pub as he had been. It was inundated with people, looking for a glimpse of where the “great romance” had happened. Everyone was concerned that an enemy of the state could easily come after the Sheriff in an attempt to use him against the Crown. 

However, the Sheriff was not the type of man to sit idle. He considered joining the Palace guard, but Stiles’ ensuing panic attack reminded them of the reasons he’d left in the first place: Stiles wasn’t ready to be an orphan. 

So the Sheriff decided that if he couldn’t run his pub in town, he’d run it in the palace. The castle advisors were shocked and confused by the prospect, but Queen Talia was amused, so she allowed it. With some help of the kitchen and a good amount of liquor and furniture transported from the tavern, The Sheriff’s Place was open for business, and the palace staff couldn’t have been happier.

Deaton had encouraged Stiles to continue his studies at the University. Stiles was hesitant, but agreed because he wanted to be of some value to the castle beyond being _Prince Derek’s Future Husband_. Unfortunately, he didn’t last more than a week.

“But, _how_ did you make just a large hole?” Derek asked, staring at the classroom wall.

“I don’t know,” Stiles said, trying not to cry. “I was trying to focus, but the professor kept shouting at me. It wasn’t on purpose, stop looking at me like that!” He glared at the other students, who eyed him from across the room.

Derek stepped between them, wrapping his arms around Stiles with a soothing noise. “I know you didn’t mean to.”

“Perhaps some more rigorous training is in order,” Mage Vicar, the head of the university, said. “Some individual training.”

“No,” Stiles said. He could already feel his skin crawling from being forced to endure the sole focus of any of his professor's’ attention. “Derek, no, I just want to study like I did before.”

“You didn’t study at all before,” Mage Vicar said coldly.

“That’s not true,” Derek said, he looked down at Stiles fondly. “You studied the books I brought to you right?”

“Every word,” Stiles assured him.

“Books,” Vicar sputtered. “You took books-- From the _university’s_ Library?”

Derek shot the man his most charming princely smile. “Well, the university is almost entirely funded by the crown, and the library itself houses the kingdom's most important documents. We, of course, extend the use of its magic works to the university but if that doesn’t suit…”

“No, of course,” Vicar said quickly. “Your Highness’ family has been most generous.”

“We have,” Derek said pleasantly. “Stiles, why don’t you make use of the library and the university facilities, instead of attending the classes?”

“The professors--” Vicar started.

“Would, I’m sure, be happy to answer any questions you have, should you need more personal guidance,” Derek finished for him.

Stiles agreed quickly. He’d thought he would be losing access to the University's resources completely. Again. Now he could get all the knowledge, without any stifling teachers.

After being left to his own devices, Stiles’ natural talents flourished. He had so many different sources to read from and no one limiting him to do things a certain way. As a result, he took ideas from the texts and executed them in new ways that worked best for him. 

The other mages still gave him a wide berth, but that was fine. Stiles didn’t really want anything to do with them anyway. Laura had been talking about how Stiles’ role might change when she took the throne, but for now everyone was happy to let him learn.

***

“I’m nervous,” Stiles whispered.

“You’ll be fine.” Derek squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Just remember what the advisors said and you’ll be fine.”

Derek looked very different with his crown on. Something about the way it flashed against his dark hair made Stiles shiver. “They said an awful lot of things, Derek. I don’t think I can remember them all.”

One of the aforementioned advisors rushed forward. “Stand up straight and tall, smile brightly, nod politely, wave gently--”

“He’ll be fine,” Derek said, dismissing the man. “Stiles, the people already love you. Now they’ll just get to see you. It’s just a short walk. Up the side garden, past the gate, wave a moment, then down the rose path, and we’re done. Alright?”

“Right,” Stiles said, nodding. The movement jarred the circlet he’d been given and it nearly fell off his head. It wouldn’t have been the first time the fine metal clanged to the floor.

“Ready? Good luck!” Scott said as he opened the doors and nudged them out into the open.

Noise rang out as soon as they were spotted. People gathered by the gates of the castle started shouting and cheering at them. Stiles tried to take even breaths and match his strides to Derek’s. He suspected his smile looked less bright and more terrified, and his hands shook as he waved.

They neared the gates and from the cacophony of noise, a voice ran out. “There’s the lad!”

Stiles’ eyes widened. “Old Murphy!” Everything Stiles had been told about how to greet the public flew out of his mind at the sight of the old sailor. “How are you, old dog?” 

He barely had time to greet the man when more faces he recognized pushed closer. People he’d served all his life pressed against the gate to wish him well, and he welcomed them. 

***

“Derek, what is going on?” Queen Talia looked as poised and serene as ever but her voice was a harsh whisper. “You’ve been out here for an hour.”

“Yes,” Derek said easily. “We’re greeting our people.”

Talia turned her back on the people so they couldn’t see her smile falter. “I know that, but it was supposed to be a quick little practice greeting, just up the side garden, past the gates--”

“Yes, but we know them,” Derek said. “We met some friends, and we couldn’t just leave them behind.”

Derek could see the sadness in his mother’s eyes. “Derek, I know Stiles has lived a very different life until now.”

“Yes, he has,” Derek cut in. “Look at him, mother, just look.” She turned and they watched together as Stiles talked with an old man, his whole focus on nothing but him in that moment. “They’re talking to him. _Really_ talking, and they feel like they’ll be heard. I want them to be heard, Mother.”

Talia watched in silence. “When you were young, I wasn’t sure you’d find your footing in our court. I thought perhaps you didn’t care. But then two years ago, you started listening when I talked about our laws. You spoke about our people and the way we governed them and you asked us to put their needs first. That change was brought on by him, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” Derek could still remember the first time he’d entered the tavern, too scared to do anything but watch Stiles glide from table to table. “Stiles, and the people he’s talking to now.”

Talia nodded. “Then we’ll listen.”

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title for this is “Why did I include so many old men? I was going to tag this “ends like Cinderella II, but my beta didn’t think that was a popular enough movie for it to be widely recognized enough for a tag. What is the world coming to?


End file.
